


Dearest Delilah

by waltzing_marionettes



Category: Cain Saga and Godchild
Genre: (child!Alexis is a nightmare), (sort of), Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Antiquated notions of gender, Bisexuality, Brother/Sister Incest, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Gaslighting, Ghosts, Incest, Miscarriage, Multi, Period-Typical Sexism, Ratings may change, Victorian Attitudes, Warnings may be updated, alexis is The Worst, general spookines, gothic horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 17:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17646578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltzing_marionettes/pseuds/waltzing_marionettes
Summary: When only the winners are granted the privilege to write history, it is only fair for us to tell the stories of those who were once stripped of their voices.This is the story of a sister and a brother, and a terrible crime.





	Dearest Delilah

The darkness of a woman is such that stripped of our sight, we must feel our way through it — we crawl, we enter her circles of Hell until we sympathize with her sorrow, until we learn from her rage.

 _Bruja_ , Segovia Amil

* * *

She rises.

The wind tears its fingers through her once lustruous, once night-black hair, clawing against her skin, her flesh, and a scream rises through her troath, but not a single sound escapes trough her teeth. She is beyond screaming at this point; the wind has already stolen her voice. The darkening city shrinks underneath her, golden, twinkling, countless faces on the bustling streets, and the wind makes the very ground underneath their feet quiver.

She rises.

London trembles underneath her, the beating, bleeding heart of a giant, its arteries flowing with light, with _life_. All the lives down there, every face, men and women, old and young, barons and beggars, all their hopes and dreams and sorrows — shards of them flow through her and cloud her vision, muddles her eyes. Moments. Memories. In flashes, glimpses, she can feel the innermost of each and every soul of London, and she knows from the way they shudder, that they can feel her innermost too. The glimpses vanish before she can blink, but they do not affect her anymore. Soon enough, the massive heart will crumble and swallow them all.

She rises.

The tower erects itself high up in the sky, and she is swept up against it with a merciless wind. Yet again, her vision clouds, and she fights it, presses her burning eyes shut, but she is overpowered by the memories. The silky air of the orangery. The solemn waltz of a music box. Vile kisses and watery movements deep underneath her skin. Brothers and sisters and blood ties forever destroyed. Trembling candlelight flames, whispers on the other side of the mirror, _his_ hands in her hair, cold and smooth against her shoulders, leaving with invisible blood stains as they trace her skin and almost lovingly close themselves around her neck—

She rises.

Her cheeks smoldering with the rush of rage and his pathetic pleading eyes, blood stains across the carpet. Screams and running feet. Blood smeared across the walls, the sheets, bruises and broken fingernails. Blood soaking her naked thighs, the bed, sweat and cries and tears, and the grin that grows and grows in his face as the wretched red creature finally opens its eyes— Those eyes are gleaming in the near darkness now, rising with the chanting and the woman’s cries, the maddening wail of a violin, rising. The boy shivers, as if touched by her presence, but he is not the one who she is coming for. _He_ , he is already waiting for her, calling her over. _He_ , who tore her out of her slumber.  _He_ , who always dreamt of blending and merging, becoming one. _He_ , who has always been closing in on her, even trough death, her trophy proudly displayed on his wall. _He_ , who _destroyed_ her. Her brother, with eyes wide open, mouth parting in a silent gasp, as if he had not already been excpecting her.  _Alexis_. He can finally see her now.

For the first time in ages, an ear-splitting grin tears through her face.

For him, she rises.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As you probably already know, this is my fix-it fic for the plot twist in Godchild and its rampant victim blaming. I’m sick of seeing Alexis’s actions being excused and all the blame put on the woman that he raped and drove to suicide, and I’m here to kill that canon. This is her story.
> 
> Comments are loved and appreciated! ♥︎


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